


Moving In, Moving On

by Aviss



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AOU spoilers, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, M/M, New Avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 03:42:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3921634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviss/pseuds/Aviss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life with the New Avengers. </p>
<p>"You want to pretend is a superhero training camp, go ahead, but I am onto you. This is a frat house, and I for one, am not too old for pyjama parties."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving In, Moving On

**Author's Note:**

> For Rosewindow for the Sam/Steve exchange

Natasha was the one to pitch the idea to Sam.

They had taken a hit, a big one; Thor was back in Asgard, Banner had gone to ground, and Stark had stepped aside to dedicate his entire attention to his company, though he would keep bankrolling them. They needed to rebuild, not only the team but also the world's opinion of them. It wasn't going to be easy; Sam had followed the news after the first attack at Avengers Tower and it wasn't pretty. After Cape Town and Sokovia the world was out for their blood, becoming an Avenger right now might be the worst idea he'd ever had, not that he was going to let that stop him. 

"What about you know who?" Sam asked Steve once he had finished talking to Natasha.

"Voldemort?" Steve said, and even through the phone Sam could picture his smartass face perfectly. Sometimes he wondered how the world had not realised yet what kind of asshole Captain America was. "I think Potter was on that case."

"I will end you, Rogers." Sam growled on the phone while Steve laughed. "Seriously, are we giving up the search?" He had been carrying it on as best he could when Steve was unavailable, intended to keep on searching for Barnes for as long as it took Steve to realize he wasn't ready to be found.

"Bucky will be alright," Steve finally admitted, a sadness in his voice Sam was really familiar with and had still not discovered how to remove permanently, not matter how much he wanted to. "He clearly doesn't want to be found, and chasing cold leads will get us nowhere. He knows where to find me when he's ready to come back. I need you here. 

And there was nothing more to be said, Sam had left everything for Steve before; he would do it again.

...

Sam looked around the impressive New Avengers facility with its state of the art technology, its gleaming surfaces and the army of techs and other personnel milling around. Stark definitely knew how to make a statement. He turned to look at Steve, who was giving all the new recruits the grand tour, and elbowed him in the ribs.

"This is a frat house," he said with a chuckle. 

"What?" Steve asked, the line between his brows that indicated confusion. Caught up with the modern world as he was, Sam still delighted in finding new things to show him.

" _This_ ," he turned around in a wide arc, gesturing with his hand to the entire complex. Behind him The Vision was staring with that freaky intensity of his and the Maximoffs were snickering together. "You want to pretend is a superhero training camp go ahead, but I am onto you. This is a frat house, and I, for one, am not too old for pyjama parties."

Steve appeared caught between amusement and outrage once he realized what he meant, a cross between the serious leader he wanted to project and the asshole they both knew he really was. It was hilarious. 

"That's not--" 

"It really is." Natasha materialized out of nowhere by his side, "And this is nothing, wait until Clint comes to visit, then you'll have the full frat house experience, prank wars included."

Everyone turned to stare at her. "I thought he was the mature one?" Wanda asked, her confusion mirrored on her brother's expression. They had only interacted with Barton during a crisis so they had not been exposed to the full extent of his charm. 

"That's what he'd like you to believe," Steve said, finally giving up the pretence and letting the smile on his face. "He really is the worst of the lot."

For some reason Sam couldn't wait.

...

It wasn't always like a frat house, other times it resembled boot camp and Steve was the worst kind of drill sergeant Sam could have.

It wasn't that he was particularly strict, or harsh. He was just there, being Steve Rogers; natural born leader who seemed to be allergic to clothes that were not painted on his unfairly impressive physique.

He insisted on them training daily but Sam had not met him while on an early morning run because he was lazy, or out of shape. Sam didn't mind the daily exercise or the early hours, and though he was never going to be as buff as Steve or Thor, he had never been in better shape. He had also never been in so much pain, Natasha was in charge of martial arts and hand-to-hand training, and it was a new and different kind of experience to have his ass handed to him by a beautiful woman on a daily basis.

"Ouch," he protested after he was sent sprawling on the mat for the third time in less than half an hour. He was usually better than this, and they both knew it. "You don't have to kill me during training."

"You are easily distracted," Natasha pointed out, offering her hand to pull him up the floor. Sam bit back a groan; she only helped him because she was going to keep at it. "And if I wanted to kill you--"

"Yeah, yeah I know, I'd be dead long before I saw you coming." He took the position again and Natasha launched her attack without a pause, all easy grace and deadly precision. He focused his energy on parrying her attacks, not an easy feat on a normal day, and today was an almost impossible one. 

Natasha was right that he was distracted.

"Speed is all good, but you can't rely on it exclusively. We are not only fighting people nowadays, we don't know what the next thing might be, and if you hit something you want it to stay down. You need strength and precision for that." Steve's voice reached them from the other side of the gym. He had his back to Sam, sparring in slow motion with Pietro and teaching him the basics of hand to hand, his white t-shirt drenched and molded to his body like a second skin. He moved telegraphing each step, the ripple of muscle perfectly visible under the almost transparent fabric.

Sam blinked, following the motion of Steve's arms and back almost unconsciously, right before he was staring at the ceiling again, Natasha's too knowing smirk appearing on his field of vision. "We're done for today. Next time I get Pietro and you spar with Steve, that way you will put your undivided attention into the training."

She didn't offer him a hand up this time, and Sam closed his eyes and sighed.

…

Living all together was fun but Sam's favourite part was there nights when Steve knocked on his door with a pack of beer and a smile. Those nights, when it was just the two of them in Sam's apartment, they ordered enough takeout for a small army and Sam educated Steve in the joys of bad movies. The anti-classics, just to see if he could make him choke on laughter.

"What do we have tonight?" Steve asked, opening a beer and passing it to Sam before he made himself comfortable on the couch.

"Sharknado 2," he used his most serious voice while he selected the take out menu. " _The second one_." He added looking back just to see Steve's half horrified, half amused face.

"I honestly thought you were making this shit up at the beginning," he admitted, shaking his head. "And then you made me sit through _Sharktopus_."

He showed the three runner ups for the night. "You love it, don't front." Since that first terrible movie Steve had not missed a single night and Sam was afraid he would run out of hilariously bad sci-fi movies. "Greek?"

"Please," Steve agreed, and Sam grabbed his tablet and typed the order for both of them. "The things scientists come up with nowadays, I live in fear of the day we are called to assemble and have to fight giant sharks falling from the sky."

There were no words to express the shiver of pure horror at that, and Steve's shit eating grin told him he knew it. "Come on, budge over you big lug." Sam took his place next to him on the couch in front of the TV, the one that was supposed to be big but somehow always felt tiny and crowded with Steve's massive body in it.

They were breathless with laughter by the time their food arrived, and they demolished it like that, pressed closer than it was necessary on the couch while shouting imprecations at the TV, fingers dripping sauce from the Gyros and shoulders touching. And Steve smiling, wide and happy and real, like he only did when it was the two of them together like this, on the rare occasion they didn't allow the rest of the world to intrude.

It was the best Sam had felt in a long time.

Sam had thought, right at the beginning of their adventure when it was just the two of them travelling through back roads while chasing a ghost, that a few days in the company of his childhood hero would be enough to cure him of his ridiculous crush on Captain America.

In a sense, he had been right; his crush on Captain America was gone. Aside from the magnificent body, a triumph of bioengineering, the man was really not what the propaganda made him out to be. Or he was, but he was so much more. He was indeed as brave and selfless as the comics said, and he did hate bullies. He was also an asshole who had no qualms playing the old grandpa card when it suited him, had a sharp sense of humour and was, in spite of everything, still willing to fight for what he thought was right.

So yes, no more childish crush, in its stead he had these feelings for Steve Rogers that went further than that, but which Sam was in no hurry to name or do anything about.

…

Two months after they moved all together Bucky found them.

Sam and Steve were still in the habit of going out for a run in the morning, something they had done even when they were out looking for Bucky. It was, according to Steve, the best way to start the day, something that invigorated them and helped face the new day with a smile on their faces.

Steve was one of those obnoxious morning people. Go figure.

They went to Steve's apartment for their after run coffee, sweaty and high on endorphins, crossing the hubbub of activity expected in a place that wasn't only the training grounds and residence of the New Avengers, but also operated as a SHIELD facility and high tech lab. There was always people coming and going, the level of noise in the public spaces rivalling that of Times Square during rush hour. The place also had a state of the art security system, a stripped down version of what had been JARVIS monitoring all entrances and spaces. Nobody without a security clearance could get in or out, Stark had promised, which didn't explain the presence of Bucky Barnes, AKA the Winter Soldier, dressed in casual clothes and with a cap low on his head, sitting in Steve's kitchen and drinking a cup of coffee.

"I heard you were looking for me, Stevie."

For an instant they both froze, unable to move, and the first thought in Sam's mind was how the fuck had Bucky managed to get so far inside without raising any alarm. The second was the he had been right; Bucky had been the one to find them once he was ready.

"Bucky?" Steve croaked, his voice barely a broken whisper.

"Most of him," Bucky said, waving with his metal hand and Sam almost choked at that. It wasn't what he meant, though, and that was obvious. His eyes were not the empty ones Sam remembered, they held warmth and hope, though there was still a darkness in them he doubted would ever disappear. He smiled at Steve, mouth quirking up on one side, and it was so similar to the smiles he had seen in the newsreels that Sam was thrown, surprised. He couldn't begin to imagine what Steve would be feeling.

Sam stared while Steve, still frozen on the spot, opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it again, words failing him. He was looking at Bucky as if he was an apparition, a miracle, and the wrong word would make him disappear.

"Stevie?" Bucky repeated, beginning to look a bit insecure at Steve's silence.

That was his cue to react, and in a couple of strides Steve had crossed the distance separating him from Bucky and had enveloped him in a crushing hug. Even from where he was Sam could see the tremors wracking his frame, and the way he was heaving huge breaths as if there wasn't enough air in the room.

"Bucky, I can't believe--Oh God, Bucky," he was almost sobbing, the words tumbling from his mouth. Bucky's arms came up to rest on his back, pressing them even closer together, the little Sam could see of his face telling him he wasn't doing better than Steve.

Sam suddenly felt like an intruder staring at an intimate scene. He needed a shower and a coffee, not necessarily in that order, and he wasn't going to get any of those things staring at Steve's back; as quietly as he could, he went back to his own apartment.

…

Sam had been prepared to feel jealous once they found Bucky.

It was a logical conclusion; Sam had feelings for Steve, and it was obvious that Steve had feelings for Bucky. Sam had known the entire time they were searching for him, had suspected before, reading between the lines of old history book and black and white newsreels, and had confirmation on the devastated expression on Steve's face after that fight on the bridge.

So yes, he had been prepared for a jealousy that never came.

It was difficult to be jealous of someone who had gone through seven kinds of hell, and had come on the other side broken but stubborn enough to try to fix himself. It was clear that the man who had come back wasn't the old Bucky Barnes anymore than he was the Winter Soldier; he was a meld of the two with jumbled memories and a case of PTSD for the history books. And yet he was able to make Steve smile just by being there.

And that was the reason he couldn't be jealous, because at the end of the day, that was all Sam wanted to see, Steve's smile.

...

He shouldn't have been surprised to find Steve inside his apartment, already sitting on the couch and looking as relaxed as ever. Sam had just come back from the gym, his usual workout extended past its normal time because Clint and Natasha had double teamed him, and Sam was feeling pretty good with himself having held against the two of them for as long as he had. One of these days he was going to send Natasha to the mat, and then he'd die happy.

"Steve? Is anything wrong?" He asked, concerned, because he had barely seen him for the past week since Bucky's returned, and never on his own.

He didn't miss the flash of confused hurt on Steve's face. "It's Wednesday."

And it was, Sam wasn't so out of touch with the world he didn't know the day of the week, and really he shouldn't be surprised that Steve was still there for their take out and horrible movie night, but he was, and that was on him.

"Damn, Clint must have knocked me harder than I thought, is it this late already?" He said and was rewarded with a smile. "Grab the menus and order whatever while I have a shower, and then we have Piranhaconda to look forward to."

Steve groaned dramatically at the title. "I keep hoping the day will come when you've run out of movies like this. Where do you find them?"

"The Internet, where else?" He went further inside the apartment, shedding wet clothes on the way to the bathroom, and he showered in record time. He was still pulling on clothes, his t-shirt stubbornly sticking to his still wet skin, when he returned not five minutes later. Say what you will about the army, it taught a man to get ready fast. "Just be glad I can't get my hands on Kung-Fuhrer yet."

" _Kung-Fuhrer_?" The real horror on his voice and face made Sam chuckle, almost missing the way Steve's eyes checked him out. "You know what, I really don't want to know. Pizza is on the way."

"Good. Is the other pensioner coming?" He asked, because as much as he liked to have Steve for himself these nights, he understood that he and Bucky needed each other.

"Nah, not everyone is insane enough to subject themselves voluntarily to this." There was a slight flush on his face, and he was avoiding Sam's eyes, and he felt warm that maybe, just maybe, Steve also liked those nights to be just the two of them.

...

"I didn't think it was possible but Steve is still as bad as flirting as he was before the serum."

Sam looked up from the book he was reading to find Bucky perched on the back of his couch. He had not heard him entering the apartment, nor had he noticed him sitting on the same couch he was using. _Assassins_. With a sigh he closed the book and put it aside.

Bucky had been living with Steve for the past month, training with the rest of the group for the last week though he insisted he wasn't ready to join them in an actual fight unless it was an emergency. He still spent most of his time inside the apartment, but it was becoming more common to see him around the complex on his own, instead of shadowing Steve as he did before. There were still nightmares that Sam sometimes could hear from his apartment, the one closest to Steve's, but he didn't think the nightmares would ever completely disappear. He still had his share of them, and he had not been through half the shit Bucky had. It was easy to see that this was as close to the old Bucky Barnes as he was going to get. It seemed to be enough for him, and it certainly was enough for Steve, who had not smiled so much in all the time Sam had known him.

"I'm not drunk enough for this conversation." He stood up from the couch only to be stopped by Bucky's hand, a bottle of beer already opened in it. The smile on his face was as smug as Natasha's when she did the same thing, and Sam debated between drinking the beer and throwing it at him. He wasn't insane, though, so he sat down again and took a long pull from it. "How is that any of my business?"

"It's true, even after the serum he didn't know how to talk to the dames, or to anyone he liked." Bucky said, not really answering the question. He was studying Sam intently, cataloguing his reactions, and it was unnerving to have that attention focused on him. "What’s your excuse?"

"What?"

"You seem like the kind of guy who'd be smooth and experienced, and I know it ain’t forbidden or frowned upon nowadays, so I don't understand why you and Steve are not together."

And that was it, Sam wasn't hearing things, Bucky was really in his apartment asking him about his relationship with Steve. He definitely wasn't drunk enough for that, wasn't sure there was enough alcohol in the world for it.

"Might be because it's not me he's interested in," he finally said, looking pointedly at Bucky.

There was a moment hesitation and then Bucky moved to sit on the couch like a normal person, his eyes level with Sam's. "He is, though."

"Bucky--"

"There are things I still don't remember, but this I know," Bucky cut him off. "Steve and I have never been anything but friends. Never will be."

And that might be the truth, but it still meant nothing. "Steve loves you."

"Yes, he does." The smile on his face was soft and nostalgic, not one Sam had seen or expected before. "And before the war he might have in love with the Bucky that grew up in Brooklyn with him. And that Bucky, he might have been in love with Steve at some point. Thing is, that boy died. He died in Germany, strapped to an operation table. He died later on again, and again, and again. _And he ain't coming back_. I know that and Steve knows that, we have made our peace with it and moved on. So I ask you again, what is stopping you?"

Sam thought about that for a bit, drinking from his beer to stall and put his thoughts in order. "When I met Steve I asked him what made him happy, and he was unable to answer." That, more than anything else, had stuck with him from when they met.

"I bet he's got some things on that list since then," Bucky insisted, relentless.

And yes, he was right. He had seen Steve smiling, more relaxed and as close to happy as he had ever seen him since then. More and more lately, once they weren't on a wild goose chase, and a lot more since Bucky came back. Which did nothing but prove his point. "Because you came back."

Bucky shook his head. " _Because he met you."_

…

The problem with ideas, as DiCaprio had explained in Inception, was that once one had taken root in his mind, Sam was almost unable to get it out.

It was true that Steve had been smiling almost non stop since Bucky's return and there was a spring in his step, but Sam would be the same if by some miracle he had Riley back from the dead, and they had only been friends and partners for about five years. Steve and Bucky had been friends since childhood, and they were both the only thing the other had tethering them to their past.

Thinking back he could see that Steve had always been more open with him than with most people, that he tended to smile more when they were alone together, and that he was tactile with everyone but it was with Sam that those touches seemed to linger.

Maybe Bucky was fucking with him and this was his idea of a joke, unlikely as that was, or maybe he was right and Sam had been blind to it, stuck on the idea of Steve and Bucky.

There was only one way to find out for sure.

Sam checked the time and headed to Steve's apartment. At that hour he would be inside with Bucky, both of them doing whatever it was they did on their downtime. He knocked and the door opened immediately. Inside, Steve was relaxing on the couch, a sketchbook in his hand and a frown of concentration on his face. He was wearing sweatpants and one of those criminally tight t-shirts he favoured. Bucky was on the other side of the couch, also wearing sweatpants and a looser t-shirt, his bare feet pushing against Steve's while he read a book. Sam had a sudden flashback of lazy days spent with his sister in much the same fashion, and a last knot of tension dissolved.

"Hey Sam," Steve said, not looking up from his drawing. Sam could see it was one of Wanda and Pietro with Clint, all of them laughing as they had been the day before when they came back from Clint's farm.

"Sam," Bucky greeted him, darting a quick look at his face. He stopped and stared for an instant at whatever it was he saw on his face, a smile twisting his lips. "About time!" He stood up and disappeared inside one of the rooms before any of them could react.

"What was that about?" Steve asked, looking at the closed door of the room Bucky was using and then at Sam.

He took the few steps separating him from the couch and sat next to Steve, making the decision of just going for it before he could overthink it. "He left us alone so I could ask you out without an audience."

Steve opened his mouth to reply and then the words registered in his mind. He closed his mouth, stared at Sam and slowly, very slowly, smiled. "Are you going to ask me out?"

Sam recognized that tone and expression, that playful lilt of his voice and arch of his brow. New what it meant and wondered at how thick they slow they both had been. "I just did."

"No, you didn't," there was a laugh in his voice, the asshole, and he was getting closer, his smile widening by the second. Sam had felt the impulse to kiss that smile since the first time he'd seen it, but right now it was almost a physical need. "I didn't hear a question there."

This was a game they both could play, he leaned a bit closer too. "You didn't?"

"No, I can't say yes if there is no question."

"Oh. Then let me ask you, can I kiss you?" Sam said leaning even closer, and the question was moot with their lips already almost touching like that.

Steve might have thought the same; he didn't bother replying, just closed the distance remaining and kissed him. It was everything he had imagined and nothing like it, it was soft and dry, just the press of lips against lips and Steve's huge hand resting on his chest, as if anchoring him. Then the hand moved to Sam's neck and Steve opened his mouth, and all rational thought suddenly disappeared, replaced by a heat that came out of nowhere. Steve, not surprising anyone, kissed like he did everything, putting all he had in it. He held Sam firmly while he explored his mouth, the kiss turning deep and hot, and there was nothing Sam could do but melt against him and try to give as much as he got. He got his hands on Steve's torso, fingers mapping the incredible muscles there, one childhood fantasy he couldn't believe was becoming true like this, and he could feel Steve laughing into the kiss.

"You still haven't asked me out," Steve mumbled against his mouth once they parted for breath.

"I will," he said, leaning in for another kiss. "In a minute, I will."

There was no rush; he already knew the answer.

…

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm in [tumblr](http://aviss.tumblr.com/)


End file.
